


Kissing Lessons

by Venusdoom3



Series: Prompt Fics [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Best Friends, Captain America: The First Avenger, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Modern Era, Pining, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Is A Virgin, Steve Rogers is No Longer a Virgin, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-18 01:04:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusdoom3/pseuds/Venusdoom3
Summary: Steve passes the whiskey over to Bucky, who takes a hit and sets it on the table next to the couch, sitting up with his feet on the floor and only swaying a little. Blearily, he notes how the chill of the floor bites harder where there's a hole in his sock. "Steve," he says, as serious as can be, "you can practice on me if ya want.""Practice what?" Steve's eyes have slipped closed, his voice a sleepy croak."Kissing."





	1. Before the War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myers1978](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myers1978/gifts).



> Blame a Tumblr prompt from [blissfullycat](https://blissfullycat.tumblr.com) (myers1978 here on AO3) for this one!

"You know how it is when you're kissin' a dame and she seems like she's interested, but she stops ya just when things start to get good—"

Bucky stops when he sees the look on Steve's face: part _are you kidding me_ and part _shut the hell up already_.

"What'd I say?"

Steve shakes his head, reaching for the bottle of cheap whiskey they've been sharing back and forth for the better part of the evening. It's nearly midnight, and they're both half past drunk; the way things are headed, neither of them will be making an appearance at mass in the morning. Not that either of them shows his face at mass most Sunday mornings, anyway, but at least the thought is usually there. "You know I ain't ever kissed nobody, Buck," Steve says, slurring his words. He's tried to keep up with Bucky sip for sip, but considering Bucky outweighs him by forty pounds or so, it's been a losing proposition from the get-go.

Blinking into the dimness of their apartment – they neglected to turn on a lamp while still sober enough to think of such a thing, so the only light in the room is the orange glow of the streetlamp outside the building – Bucky frowns. "Yeah, but I – huh. I guess I just figured—"

"—that if you're seeing action, everybody else must be, too?" Steve digs his sock-clad toes into Bucky's thigh. They sat on either end of the couch, but as they drank more, they also slumped more, so they were more in each other's space than not. Then again, such things were hardly unusual, even when sober.

"Well – yeah." It sounds lame even to Bucky.

Steve snorts. "Well, nope. We can't all be charming, handsome devils like you who have to beat 'em off with a stick. Damn near nineteen years old and I ain't worth a damn to any gal."

Bucky struggles to sit up straighter. "But you _are_ worth a damn, Stevie. You might be small, but you got a real good-lookin' face, and you're smart, and funny, and interesting, and you're a gentleman besides. Any doll'd be lucky to have you."

Steve makes a rude noise.

"Just 'cause you're a fuckin' punk doesn't mean you'll never land a dame," Bucky cracks, and Steve kicks him again.

"Yuk it up, wise guy."

Steve passes the whiskey over to Bucky, who takes a hit and sets it on the table next to the couch, sitting up with his feet on the floor and only swaying a little. Blearily, he notes how the chill of the floor bites harder where there's a hole in his sock. "Steve," he says, as serious as can be, "you can practice on me if ya want."

"Practice what?" Steve's eyes have slipped closed, his voice a sleepy croak.

"Kissing."

One blue eye cracks open, its eyebrow arcing high.

"Well, listen." Bucky turns, keeping one foot on the floor, since he'd probably end up tumbling off the couch without its assistance maintaining his balance. "When you _do_ find someone, don't ya think it'd be better if you had _some_ experience? No dame wants to teach a fella how to kiss, right?"

"Huh." Steve nods slowly, as if it makes perfect sense to him. With all the whiskey sloshing around in his belly, it very well might. "Lemme think about it. M'too drunk."

"Yeah, okay." Bucky stands, tottering as he holds out a hand to Steve. "C'mon. Let's go to bed or we'll never get up in time for mass in the morning."

They don't anyway.

The following evening, after their supper is cooked and eaten and the dishes washed and put away, they sit down at their wobbly little table to play cards. Neither of them suggests breaking out the remainder of last night's whiskey, and Bucky is glad; he's finally rid of the headache that plagued him for most of the day, and he's a little afraid of what he might say to Steve this time. Lord knows his mouth went ahead without him last night, making a suggestion so outlandish it was a miracle Steve's even talking to him now. He wonders if Steve would still talk to him if he knew just how much Bucky had wanted – _still_ wanted – him to agree to the cockamamie idea.

Halfway through their third hand of gin rummy, Steve pipes up, all the while staring at his cards with fierce concentration. "Hey, Buck?"

"Yeah?" Bucky frowns at his own cards.

Steve clears his throat, eyes still fastened, stubborn as everything else Steve did, to the fan of cards in his hand. "What you said last night," he begins, and Bucky cringes.

_Here we go._

Steve surprises him, however, by sounding merely curious and not mad as a wet hen when he continues, "Did ya mean it?"

"Did I – well, yeah," Bucky stammers, "course I meant it. But you don't have to—"

Steve nods, finally lifting his eyes to meet Bucky's. His cheeks flame pink, but his expression remains proud, and Bucky marvels – for the millionth time since they met as children over a decade before – how surreally beautiful Steve is and how frustrating it is that he doesn't see it. "Okay," Steve says, his deep voice level.

"Okay," Bucky echoes, brow creasing. "What do—"

"I mean, _okay_." Steve takes a deep breath. "You're right; no dame's gonna want a fella who doesn't even know how to kiss her right. If you don't mind—"

"No, I don't mind," Bucky says, cringing internally at his own eagerness. Steve doesn't seem to notice; he smiles a shy, self-conscious smile that would make Bucky fall head over heels for him if he wasn't already.

"Okay," Steve says again, laying his cards face down on the table and giving Bucky an expectant look.

Bucky's heart rate doubles, and he swallows hard. "You mean – _now_?"

"No. Next Tuesday," Steve deadpans. "I was just gonna write it on the calendar. _Yeah_ , now, dummy. Did ya have another time in mind?"

Putting down his cards, Bucky shakes his head and pushes back his chair. "No time like the present. C'mon."

"Where should we…" Steve trails off, and Bucky takes his elbow with a hand that he hopes isn't shaking as noticeably as it feels.

"How about anywhere but the kitchen?" Bucky gives Steve his best disarming grin and leads him closer to the couch. Releasing Steve's arm, Bucky draws the curtains and turns to stand in front of Steve, who stares at him with wide, decidedly nervous eyes.

"So, how – what do you—"

Bucky curls a finger beneath Steve's chin, lifting it gently, and Steve blinks. "We'll take this slow," Bucky says in a husky voice he almost doesn't recognize. He clears his throat, not wanting to give Steve the slightest indication that what Bucky is doing is anything less than a selfless gesture for Steve's sake; the last thing Bucky wants is to reveal to Steve just how long he's wanted this.

Licking his lips, Steve nods.

"I think we should start with the good night kiss," Bucky says. "It's usually the first one you get off a gal, so we'll practice that one first."

Steve fidgets on his feet. "Okay."

"So you've walked her home, and you're standing on her doorstep, saying good night." _Breathe, Barnes. Don't forget to breathe._ "If the date went well, she's gonna expect this, and besides, if she doesn't want it, she'll turn her face so you end up kissing her cheek."

"I'm supposed to believe that's ever happened to _you_?" Steve says with a chuckle, and Bucky shrugs, smiling despite himself.

"Sure it has. Remember Barbara Watson in eighth grade? She turned her face so far I kissed her damn ear."

They laugh, the tension bleeding out of the moment. "Yeah, she was pretty high on her horse for somebody with bad skin and buck teeth," Steve says.

"And just think. She coulda had all this," Bucky says, gesturing to himself with a snort.

"Yeah." Steve gives a strange little smile. "Okay, so we'll pretend _this_ date went better than that."

Bucky nods. "Good. Okay. So, you get her up to the door, and you're saying good night. You wanna make sure to say something like, 'I had a really nice time tonight.' And keep eye contact," he says, demonstrating with his own eyes locked on Steve's. "You want her to feel like she's the only thing you can see."

Steve stares back, sounding a bit breathless when he replies, "Uh-huh."

"If she wants you to kiss her, she won't turn real quick to let herself inside. So," Bucky says, swallowing as he moves closer to Steve, "what I do is put my hand on her waist, like this." He rests one trembling hand on Steve's side, just below the ribcage. "And then I just lean in, close my eyes, and—"

Before he can think of any reason not to charge ahead, Bucky closes the gap between them, letting his eyes slip closed at the instant his lips touch Steve's. Bells chime, birds sing, and a choir of heavenly voices sings out – all inside Bucky's head – at the warm softness of Steve's lips, and Bucky has to force himself to pull back after a meager couple of seconds, taking a deep breath to steady himself as he pulls back and opens his eyes. Steve's flutter open a moment later, his lips parting as he takes a breath of his own.

"So," Bucky croaks, clearing his throat again. "That's the first one. You don’t wanna come on too strong, or there won't be a second. Keep it quick and simple but also soft and sweet, so she wants more. Get it?"

"Y-yeah."

Bucky looks around, his eyes settling on a low crate full of books under the window. He stoops to pick it up, dumping the books onto the floor in the general idea of a pile, and sets the crate down in front of Steve, bottom side up. "Stand on this. Might be the only time you're taller than me."

"You're _hilarious_ ," Steve grumbles, but his lips twitch anyway as he steps onto the crate, which gives him about a three inch height advantage on Bucky. It'll have to do. "Okay, I'm taller than you now. Miracle of miracles. Now what?"

"Now it's your turn." Bucky steps up to the crate until his toes touch its wooden side, smiling up at Steve. "Pretend I'm your date, and you just walked me up to my door."

"Okay, but you'd make a damn funny-looking dame, with those broad shoulders." Steve mugs at him, and Bucky laughs, balling up his fist and brandishing it at him.

"Watch it, punk," Bucky growls playfully, "or this funny-looking dame'll knock you flat on your keister."

Steve grins down at him for a moment before curling his warm hand over Bucky's ribs, leaning in, and pressing his lips to Bucky's, all in one smooth movement. It's all Bucky can do not to moan into it this time, but he chokes off the sound just in time. "How was that?" Steve asks as he pulls back, his face reddened.

Licking his lips, Bucky stares at him, speechless, for a moment before mentally shaking himself and responding, "Uh. That was _really_ good. You sure you're not an expert?"

"Don't tease, Buck," Steve admonishes him, stepping off the crate and sliding it over to the window to replace the books.

"I'm not," Bucky says, kneeling to help Steve stack the books back into the crate. "I think you're a natural, kid."

"And I think you're a jackass." Steve offers Bucky an easy grin, and Bucky returns it, unsure if the flip-flopping sensation in his stomach is from the look on Steve's face or from the realization that Bucky is in way deeper than even he himself had suspected.

**

 


	2. During the War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'll know when she wants you to kiss her. She'll be lookin' into your eyes, like this..." Bucky blinks up at Steve, intending to demonstrate what he means but completely thrown off guard by the way Steve's gaze sucks him in and pins him in place like a bug in a display case. 
> 
> _Fuck,_ but he's far gone for the big lug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew a doodle to accompany this chapter!
> 
> [](http://i.imgur.com/6IDLHGE)

 

** Chapter 2 **

"You ain't just standing by the wall and watching tonight," Bucky scolds as he combs his hair by feel in the absence of a mirror.

Steve scuffs at the ground with the toe of his freshly shined boot as he sits, slumped, on the edge of his cot. "C'mon. You know I'm no good at dancing."

"It don't matter if you're _good_ ," Bucky says, setting down the comb and adjusting his tie. He doesn't need a mirror; he knows damn well how sharp he looks in his crisp, clean dress uniform. "It only matters if you're _willing_ , because believe me; if you're willing, these English dames will be, too. _More_ than willing is my guess." He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Once they get a look at you in this getup, I bet you'll be up to your ears in gals willing to do pretty much anything with a handsome American fella like you, captain or no captain."

"You're giving me too much credit." Steve can play modest all he wants; the truth is, Bucky imagines Steve got more than a taste of the respect – and the _willingness_ – his rank commands while on tour with the USO girls.

"Bullshit," Bucky says, pulling Steve to his feet and blinking; it's been nearly a month since Steve's heroic rescue mission in Austria, but Bucky's still thrown off every time he has to look _up_ to meet Steve's familiar blue puppy-dog eyes. "Don't even tell me you're still shy and self-conscious lookin' like _this_." He brushes imaginary lint off the lapels of Steve's jacket, surreptitiously marveling at the solid thickness of the disconcertingly broad chest beneath.

"Just 'cause I'm the size of a house now don't mean I'm any less awkward with the dames," Steve argues, a defiant blush spreading over his chiseled cheekbones.  _He always did have a beautiful face,_ Bucky thinks, _but on this body,_ _he's breathtaking._

"You can't tell me those USO girls weren't throwing themselves at you left and right." Bucky dimly realizes he's still gripping Steve by the lapels, but he can't seem to bring himself to release his hold.

Steve doesn't seem to notice, or if he does, he apparently doesn't mind. "Maybe they were. I dunno. I wasn't about to take advantage of any of them."

"Why the fuck _not_?" Bucky squawks.

"A lady's worth more than just what's between her legs or what she's willing to do with it," Steve said primly, and Bucky stared at him in mock horror.

"Have you learned _nothing_ from me all these years?"

Steve grins, attempting to nudge Bucky with his shoulder and reaching out with lightning reflexes to steady him when he stumbles from the force of the blow. "Sorry," Steve mumbles. "Still don't know my own strength sometimes."

Willing his mind not to fall down that potentially delicious and disastrous rabbit-hole, Bucky shakes his head, smirking. "I'm not lettin' you leave the pub tonight without at least kissin' a pretty girl. You hear me?"

"Buck," Steve complains, "it's hard enough for me to remember my dance steps without gettin' my lips in the way."

"It's easy," Bucky insists. "You don't need to think about it. It's instinct." He pauses, thinking. It's a bad idea. It's a _terrible_ idea. He suggests it anyway, because he just can't help himself. "Can I show you?"

"Aw, geez." Steve's blush intensifies.

"What?" Bucky asks, putting real effort into keeping his tone light. "Captain America's too high an' mighty to kiss little ol' Sergeant Barnes? What a difference a couple years makes."

"What? _No_ ," Steve stammered. "Buck, I ain't any different than I always was. You don't think _I_ think I'm better than you, do ya? 'Cause I don't, and I'm _not_."

"Rogers." Bucky grins, secretly delighted. "Shut up and lemme show you."

Steve subsides, still wide-eyed. "Okay."

"C'mere." Bucky tows him to the center of the captain's tent, which Steve has steadfastly refused to inhabit without Bucky's accompaniment, and settles his right hand in Steve's left, resting the other on Steve's arm. His heart beats the slightest bit faster as he grips the rock solid bicep beneath the rough fabric of Steve's jacket. "You wanna pick a slow number," he says, forcing his voice to come out confident when every part of him is shaky and nervous. "Trying to lock lips and cut a rug at the same time is just begging for a loose tooth or a bloody lip."

Steve chuckles. "Yeah, I bet."

"So," Bucky continues, "let's dance, huh?"

When Bucky begins humming a tune, something slow and romantic they used to hear on the radio back home when they could get it to work, Steve takes his cue and turns Bucky in a slow circle, swaying the both of them from side to side. "So, is there a particular moment I should keep an eye out for, or how do I know when to lay one on her?" Steve asks, grinning, and Bucky laughs.

"You have to be a little more subtle than that, wise guy. You go jamming your tongue down her throat as soon as the song starts, you're gonna end up with a smack across the face and dancin' by yourself. You'll know when she wants you to kiss her. She'll be lookin' into your eyes, like this..." Bucky blinks up at Steve, intending to demonstrate what he means but completely thrown off guard by the way Steve's gaze sucks him in and pins him in place like a bug in a display case.

_Fuck_ , but he's far gone for the big lug.

Steve breaks Bucky's reverie by speaking up. "Okay."

Bucky clears his throat. "And, uh... she'll probably get a little closer." He shuffles a half step further into Steve's space, pressing his chest against Steve's and sliding his arms around Steve's neck. Bucky isn't sure if it's his imagination, or if Steve really does gasp a little under his breath. _Wishful thinking_ , Bucky tells himself, still staring, unwavering, into Steve's eyes. Steve doesn't look away, instead slipping his arms around Bucky's waist.

"Yeah?"

"And just... watch her mouth," Bucky continues, his blood running hot at the way Steve's eyes fall to Bucky's lips as he licks them. "She'll usually—"

"Mm-hmm," Steve hums, leaning in and touching Bucky's lips with his own. It's been a while since their last impromptu kissing lesson, but already, the heat and softness of Steve's mouth feels familiar. His lips are an exact fit for Bucky's, their shape perfectly complementary, and Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, relishing the kiss as long as the fleeting opportunity allows. Steve pulls back all too soon, and Bucky's eyes slit open to watch him draw back, blushing wildly.

"How was that?"

"Umm. Good," Bucky manages, but Steve shakes his head, impatient.

"I can do better," he says, leaning in again, and this time, his kiss sets Bucky's head spinning. There's more pressure, more warmth, more _everything_ , and when Steve parts Bucky's lips with the tip of his tongue, it's all Bucky can do not to groan aloud. "There," Steve says when he pulls back. "How 'bout that one?"

"Fuck," Bucky replies, immediately kicking himself. "I mean... yeah. Much better. Wow."

Steve smiles, a steamy, smoldering version of his usual smirk that Bucky doesn't recognize, although he instantly loves it. He loves it so much, in fact, that he's torn between pulling back to avoid Steve noticing Bucky's cock stirring in his pants – for the first time, he realizes, since his imprisonment and medical torture at the hands of Arnim Zola – and pressing closer still to let the chips fall where they may. His pelvis has very nearly made the decision for him when the sound of voices just outside the tent startles them both into hasty separation.

"Hey, Cap!" It's Dugan, his gruff voice jovial with the promise of drinks, dancing, and dames. "You and Sarge ready?"

"Uh – yeah," Steve calls back, looking Bucky over with an expression on his face Bucky could swear is hunger. "We're ready, all right."

As Bucky follows Steve from the tent, admiring the view from behind, he stifles a sigh. _If you only knew_ how _ready._

**

 


	3. Modern Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Listen," Steve says with a faint smile. "It used to be you teaching me things and giving me the confidence to put myself out there. So give me a turn, huh? Let me help you the way you helped me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/7NfnaXD)

"C'mon, Buck. You _gotta_ get out of the apartment more."

Bucky levels a sullen gaze at Steve across the living room of their cozy Brooklyn apartment, where he's curled up in a ball in the corner of the couch. "Why? I like the apartment."

"Well, yeah; I like the apartment, too," Steve says, shaking his head, "but isolating yourself isn't gonna help you get better, and you know it."

Bucky continues staring at him, impassive. A sheaf of long, dark hair falls over one eye, but he makes no move to brush it aside. Steve sighs.

"We could go to a Mets game," he suggests, flopping onto the couch next to Bucky with one leg tucked beneath himself. "Or a movie, or a museum… how about the Bronx Zoo?"

Bucky says nothing.

Steve thinks for a moment before an _a-ha!_ expression crosses his face so obviously he might as well have an actual light bulb floating above his head. "How about a double date? I could set us up with a couple girls…" He trails off at the horrified look on Bucky's face. "What?" Steve asks, crestfallen. "No good?"

"No date." Bucky shakes his head so hard he makes himself momentarily dizzy. "I'm in no condition for that kind of pressure, Steve. I haven't been on a date since – Christ, I guess I haven't been on a proper date since the forties. The good-time girls we went out with during the war don't count."

"There's nothin' to it," Steve begins, and Bucky laughs, a jaded, humorless sound.

"Don't that beat all? Steven Rogers telling _me_ how easy it is taking a girl out," Bucky huffs, turning away to look out the window at the clear blue sky. "Never thought you'd be the one giving me this kind of advice," he mutters, generous mouth turning downward at the corners, and Steve moves closer, resting a hand on Bucky's thickly muscled thigh through the blue jeans he wore.

"What are you afraid of?" Steve asks softly.

 _Oh, I don't know,_ Bucky thinks. _Fucking everything up? Making an ass out of myself? Maybe snapping a waiter's neck because he forgot to bring my date a glass of water?_ Instead, he shrugs. "I don't know how to be human anymore, let alone good company for somebody else."

"You _are_ good company. There's nobody _I'd_ rather be around." Steve moves closer still, his hand moving from Bucky's leg, and Bucky ponders the brief loss he feels until Steve's hand comes to rest on his shoulder, his thumb brushing the side of Bucky's neck. "I'll help you," Steve murmurs. "You're not in this alone, y'know. I'll do anything to—"

"—bring back the old Bucky?" Jaw clenching, Bucky blinks in surprise at the sting of tears.

"No." Steve waits until Bucky looks back at him to continue. "To help you adjust to all this. To make you comfortable and happy and healthy. I miss the old Bucky sometimes, but I love the new Bucky, too. I'll take ya any way I can have ya."

Bucky can't look away as Steve regards him with open affection. A piece of himself that he'd purposely buried deep enough to ignore burrows its way to the surface and blooms in his chest. Steve loves this version of him? This damaged, emotionally stunted, monstrous Bucky who suffers flashbacks and night terrors and vicious mood swings and can hardly stand himself? _I love you, too,_ Bucky thinks, desperate to voice it but lacking the courage, the confidence, the right words… he's always _lacking_ anymore. Nothing's the way it used to be or the way it _should_ be, especially him.

"Buck?" Steve cocks his head, concerned. "You with me, pal?"

Nodding slowly, Bucky curls into himself further, willing himself to shrink away to nothing.

"Listen," Steve says with a faint smile. "It used to be you teaching me things and giving me the confidence to put myself out there. So give me a turn, huh? Let me help you the way you helped me."

"What, by teachin' me how to kiss?" Bucky regrets the wry statement the instant it clears his mouth, but, as he's found out the hard way about damn near everything else, there's no taking it back.

Steve chuckles, clearly delighted. "Hey – you _remember_ that?"

"'Course I do. I turned you into a real ladies' man."

"I don't know about all that," Steve says, rolling his eyes, "but at least I had some idea what to do with 'em."

Bucky gives a sad smile. "Glad one of us still does."

"You'll get there." Steve slides closer still and puts an arm around Bucky's shoulders. " _We'll_ get there. All right?"

All Bucky wants to do at this exact moment in his life is _get there_ with Steve. He wants Steve to hold him and kiss him and whisper reassurances in his ear and never let him go. He wants Steve in all the ways he ever wanted Steve but never took any of the myriad opportunities he had to do something about it. He wants Steve to want him the same way.

He can say none of this, so instead, he whispers, "Help me."

Steve palms his cheek, turning Bucky's face toward him. "Come here," Steve murmurs, leaning in, and they meet somewhere in the middle, lips coming together in a kiss so unbearably gentle Bucky nearly collapses from it. Steve draws back when Bucky's hands creep around the back of his neck.

"There's another reason I don't want to try dating again. I don't need anybody else but you. You're all I ever wanted," he blurts out, biting his lower lip so hard he tastes copper, time freezing in the instant Steve looks back at him in shock.

"You..." Steve swallows, blinking, the confused little crease Bucky loves so much appearing between his eyebrows. "D'you mean..."

When Steve trails off, Bucky nods, his heart thumping with anticipation while his stomach lurches with dread. "There's some of the old Bucky left," he says, his voice disconcertingly husky. "I still love you the same way I always did. I never told you 'cause I didn't want to risk you getting thrown in jail or worse, but now that it's legal to love another fella like that, I—"

Steve's lips curve upward in a slow smile while Bucky prattles on, and before Bucky's brain catches up with his mouth, Steve slides his fingers into Bucky's hair and tugs him into another kiss, this one longer but just as gentle, edged with an unnamed something that sends excitement buzzing like electricity down Bucky's spine. Just as Steve pulls back, his eyes crackling with it, Bucky identifies that something as desire.

"Wish you'da said something a long time ago," Steve whispers, bumping the tip of his nose against Bucky's.

"Me too," Bucky nearly moans, delirious with joy and terror and exhilaration and nervousness and all-encompassing hope. His head is as light as a cloud, but that probably has more to do with the majority of his body's blood supply flooding into his pelvis than anything else. The sensation only intensifies when Steve pushes him – again, so very gently – to lie back against the arm of the couch and crawls over him, straddling his lap.

"You might be out of practice in a few things," Steve purrs, the dark, hungry look in his eyes doubling Bucky's pulse. "Think I should give you a few tips?"

"You better give me more than the tip," Bucky responds without thinking, his face instantly reddening as Steve's jaw drops. They burst into giddy laughter at the same instant, and they're still laughing as they collide in another kiss.

Bucky can't help himself; being this close to Steve has him nearly frothing at the mouth for more, and Steve doesn't seem the least bit put out when Bucky drags the hem of Steve's t-shirt upward; in fact, Steve helps him peel it off – and peel it off is exactly what they must do. Other than the moderate level of difficulty removing the garment, he has no reason whatsoever to complain about Steve's penchant for snug-fitting tops. When Steve is bare from the waist up, Bucky brackets Steve's ribs in his hands and lifts his head off the armrest to trace with his tongue the ridiculously defined pectorals before him. Steve gives a low, rumbling growl of approval, bracing his hands on the armrest to hover over Bucky, letting him have his way.

"So beautiful, Stevie," Bucky breathes against Steve's feverish skin, lapping and kissing at the broad expanse of taut flesh hovering just above him. "You always were."

Steve responds with a near-whimper as Bucky surrounds Steve's nipple with his lips and sucks while teasing it with the tip of his tongue. "Fuck," Steve gasps, clutching the back of Bucky's head in encouragement.

"Mmm, you like that?" Bucky deliberately lets his lips drag over Steve's reddened, hypersensitive nipple as he speaks, smiling into Steve's skin as Steve lets out a soft, desperate groan. "All I wanna do is make you feel good," Bucky continues, moving to the other side of Steve's chest and scraping the nipple with his teeth, making Steve tremble.

"Well, you're doing a good job, then."

"Huh. Not good enough." Bucky grins up at him, sliding lower on the couch until he's at eye level with the waistband of Steve's slim-fitting chinos, which do nothing to conceal the heat Steve's packing in them. "Is this okay?" Bucky asked, glancing up to find Steve staring down at him, eyes heavy-lidded, jaw slack. Steve nods, speechless, and Bucky palms the stiff length of Steve's frankly impressive dick through his pants. It's hot and big and intriguingly hard, and Bucky can't resist being this close to it and not touching it. He opens the button and draws down the zipper on Steve's pants, mouth fairly watering at the flat plane of muscle the action revealed, leading downward to a neatly trimmed patch of dark blond hair.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Holy shit. No drawers, Stevie?"

Blushing, Steve shakes his head. "Sometimes. Not always."

Growling, Bucky kisses his way down Steve's lower abdomen until the vee of his zipper impedes further progress. "I think that's hot as hell," he confesses, hooking his fingers beneath Steve's waistband, but the close fit of the pants combined with Steve's splayed stance offers exactly zero give. Steve assists by standing only long enough to strip the pants from his long, muscular legs before crawling back atop Bucky, his thick cock bobbing invitingly before Bucky's eager mouth.

Bucky licks his lips and wraps his hand around the base of Steve's cock to steady it. "Fucking gorgeous," he rasps, giving Steve a few slow strokes just to watch his eyelashes flutter. "Can I?"

"God," Steve groans, " _please_."

Not entirely sure he isn't dreaming, Bucky clutches Steve's ass with his free hand, forcing his hips forward, as he opens his mouth to slide the head of Steve's dick between his lips. They make simultaneous sounds of pleasure as Bucky gleefully suckles on the smooth tip, letting his tongue explore as he learns Steve's texture and flavor, both of which are instantly addictive. Wanting more, Bucky sucks him deeper, lips pushing back the foreskin, cataloguing each throbbing vein and every thick inch that stretches his lips wider and stuffs his mouth fuller. He can only take Steve about halfway without gagging, so he puts his all into worshipping the first half with his mouth while his fingers toy with the rest, alternating between a feather-light touch and an iron grip.

"Bucky," Steve moans, hips jerking, and Bucky pulls away from Steve's dick with more than a little reluctance.

"Is it okay?"

"Oh my _fuck_ ," Steve responds, wracked by a full body shudder, and Bucky smirks, taking that as a positive sign. He slides his flesh hand up Steve's chest as he wraps his mouth around Steve's cock again; it may be his imagination, but it feels even harder than it did a few seconds before, and it's definitely leaking pre-come now. The sweet, sticky fluid smears over Bucky's lips and chin as he licks and sucks his way up one side of Steve's cock and down the other.

"Ungh. _shit_ ," Steve grunts, and Bucky slips his first two fingers between Steve's bitten-red lips, caressing Steve's tongue with the pads of his fingers. Steve seems more than happy to give Bucky's fingers the same attention Bucky is giving his dick, and when Bucky pulls his fingers free with a wet pop, Steve actually whines.

"You're a dirty boy, aren't you, Rogers?" Bucky murmurs, his lips brushing the smooth, wet tip of Steve's cock, and Steve nods a little, past the point of replying intelligibly. "You want to come in my mouth?" Bucky asks, his voice even softer than before, but Steve hears him and nods with more conviction. "Come on, then," Bucky whispers. "Fuck my face. I want to taste all of you."

With a broken moan, Steve obliges, his thrusts slow and shallow until Bucky reaches between Steve's legs and seeks out the cleft of his muscular ass with still-wet fingers. Steve's moan is louder this time, his back arching and his hole twitching beneath Bucky's fingertips, and he thrusts harder into Bucky's mouth, his movements becoming less controlled and more frantic the more Bucky's fingers knead and circle his entrance.

"Fuck, Stevie," Bucky gasps, pulling free of Steve's dick and resting his forehead against Steve's belly, "I wanna be inside you so bad."

"Yeah," Steve pants, and Bucky notices for the first time that Steve's arms tremble where he braces himself against the armrest. It can't be exertion; Bucky hasn't seen Steve bat an eye at such a thing since he weighed ninety-some pounds.

"Get down here." His head pillowed on the low arm of the couch, Bucky wraps his hands around Steve's ridiculously trim waist to tug him down. Collapsing onto Bucky's supine body, Steve claims Bucky's mouth in a deep, powerful kiss, bracing his knees on either side of Bucky's thighs and rutting momentarily against the crotch of Bucky's jeans.

With a snarl of frustration, Steve reaches between them and yanks so hard at the closure of Bucky's jeans that the button flies off and clatters to the floor somewhere to their right, the zipper wrenched open so hard the front seam of the jeans splits in two. Gearing up to make a token complaint – they _are_ his favorite jeans – Bucky opens his mouth and moans instead as Steve reaches inside Bucky's undershorts and pulls out his stiff prick.

"That's better," Steve mutters, lining up their erections. Steve's is a little longer, Bucky's the slightest bit thicker, but they're essentially equal for all intents and purposes, a perfect match as Steve wraps his big hand around them both and begins rocking into his fist.

The slide of flesh against flesh is unbearably delicious, nearly distracting Bucky from what he was about to do. Peeling the fingers of his human right hand off Steve's ribs, Bucky offers the first two fingers to him again. "Spit," he demands, and Steve does, his eyes alight with curiosity and locked with Bucky's as Bucky reaches behind him and fumbles for his opening again.

"Oh, yeah." Steve's eyes roll when Bucky's fingertips zero in on his hole again. "C'mon, Buck. I want 'em."

Bucky has never been able to deny Steve a damn thing in the world, and now is no time to start; besides, he wants inside Steve as badly as Steve wants him there. He presses gently at Steve's tender center until the tight band of muscle relaxes, allowing the tips of Bucky's fingers to slip inside, and _oh_ , glory, is Steve _hot_ and _tight_!

Sobbing out a semi-coherent affirmative, Steve moves harder, his hand tightening around both of their throbbing lengths. He's half out of his mind; Bucky can tell, watching with awe as Steve thrusts forward into his fist and pushes back onto Bucky's probing, seeking fingers.

"Buh…" Steve jolts and then freezes, silent but for his gasping breaths, and then seems to lose all coordination, shuddering all over as he comes, splattering Bucky's stomach and chest, his hole clamping tight around Bucky's fingers. Only then does Steve let out a sound, a loud, ungodly sexy howl, his entire _being_ seeming to ripple atop Bucky, who has nearly forgotten how close he was to the edge, so wrapped up is he in the spectacle of Steve's glorious orgasm.

His own release overtakes him, swift and formidable, and when Bucky regains awareness, he has Steve crushed tightly against his chest. Bucky grunts and relinquishes his potentially devastating grip, but Steve remains in place, breathing deeply, contented little sighs and purrs rumbling against Bucky's throat, where Steve's face is pressed.

"So, professor," Bucky murmurs with a lazy smile. "Did I pass the lesson, or what?"

"Mmm." Steve turns his face just enough to free his mouth from Bucky's neck. "With flying colors."

"What's the next lesson, then?"

Steve snorts. "I was thinking maybe _Not Waiting Eighty Years to Tell Me How You Feel_ , but I think we're gonna phase that one out."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Next lesson," Steve says, lifting his head and pressing a soft kiss to Bucky's lips, "is more of an experiment. We're gonna test the hypothesis that both versions of the serum will let us stay up all night playin' mattress polo."

Bucky laughs, cupping Steve's smiling face in both hands. "I see the student has become the teacher."

"I learned from the best."

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this could've been a sweet little G or Teen-rated fic, but c'mon... this is me, guys. Smut comes with the territory. ;)
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://venusdoom3.tumblr.com)!


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